Cracks In Our Lives
by ohsoxalive
Summary: When she looks at the scarred boy, she remembers. He is the reason. And, oh how she hates him. /azulaoneshot.


**a/n: Written for a friend because I lost a bet. Here's your victory prize, hun. (Requested an Azula centered one shot, dark, with _no shipping_, and geez, did he have to make it difficult.) And if you hate it...I'll write you another one or something. xD Though, I do hope you like it. Even just a little bit.**

**This was written before the Avatar finale. With the purpose of re-writing it. So that's why...it's not like it at ALL...well you'll see.**

**Title:** Cracks In Our Lives  
**Rating**: PG-13?  
**Character(s):** Azula, Zuko  
**Summary: **The world is always breaking, shattering, and she's sick of it.

--

The world is stupid, she declares.

And if not, then the people are. She watches it _(pride and battles and stupid men)_ and can see the way history keeps repeating. The ending is memorized and the victory is hers. It's just a bone, shallow and breakable, always cracking and fracturing, until it heals its pretty self back up again, only to be broken again.

She knows this is true when she sees her brother.

**.x.**

And she can't stand it, she _hates it—_Azula cannot understand _why _she is alone and he is not.

"Have you come to redeem your honor—to prove yourself, Zuko?"

The words are barely rushed, questioning, shoving, as she took the time to step forward and look the boy in the eyes. He's nothing, has nothing, but yet, he comes and takes everything away (_mother, uncle, her friends, the Avatar, and now her throne?). _All the time spent thinking, cursing,_ hating _is one tight knot in her stomach, deep in the back of her throat and clenched between her fingers.

When she looks at the scarred boy, she remembers.

He is the reason.

**.x.**

"_She's slipping,"_

Azula heard that, read it from his face, and he may have been right, but was also wrong.

**.x.**

"I don't see the point though," She took a breath, controlling and swallowing something bitter down, "It's not like Mother would want to see a failure like you again."

And she's back—back to the Azula she once was, strong and hungry, already too broken to break anymore.

"Take it back!"

His words are just little crumbs, feeding her malicious smile and her narrowed eyes. Zuko was stepping forward, his temper and anger like a clock, "You're a liar, Azula! You don't care about anything because you're a cold blooded, heartless _liar_—"

"You want the truth, Zu-zu? _I'll tell you the truth_."

Azula smiled when she saw him send the waterbender away, sent her running and gone, his fists clenched and his eyes wild. She had him alone, brother and sister in a place that really wasn't home, and she could feel herself reading what she was saying from his face, his eyes, his past. He's so easy to break. All you had to do was hurt him where he was weakest--his past, the fool--and not even he could keep himself controlled.

"You're a failure," she was dodging his punches, silly blasts of fiery frustration, "You think you're a hero or something, Zuko? You're not! You're a coward who doesn't know what to believe in, and everything that you ever had has made you _weak_." She saw him stomping, battle cries on his tight lips, her pathetic brother sweaty and angry.

"Weak," she hisses between her teeth again, her smile glinting like a knife.

That was when she sent a lightning bolt to his chest.

**.x.**

And he sent it back.

_Back at her._

Then she felt it come back all too fast, everything exploding inside of her, vicious and surging in her veins, like a broken wave through the city streets. A shrill cry tore from her throat (_he always does this, always takes everything away!) _as she lunged for his still standing body. "_I hate you!" _Her fire is blue and white, burning him and burning herself, while she reaches and punches and rips for him.

It's a heavy feeling, heavier than her armor, tight and splitting inside her chest, growing and consuming as she goes for his throat. She's not herself anymore, not collected or composed, poised but instead completely lost. Her mind was light and somewhere else.

He kicked her off, one hand bright red, to her eye.

Stumbling back, screeching at the sharp pain, her hand fled to her face. "Now we match," he sounds almost stable now, strangely calmer, perhaps because of the way she was acting. "But I don't even recognize you." He was stepping closer now, as she bit her lip and felt her knees shake against the ground. Zuko looked down at her and she hated him for that.

"You're worse than_ him_, aren't you? You're…you're a monster."

He was just like Mother.

Azula felt herself stand up (something he was never able to do) and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, smearing blood and lipstick, red smudging against her cheek. Her eye was closed shut with burnt skin and pain. For a moment, she softly closed her eyes, forcing and forgetting.

"Oh, and you think you're such a saint, Zuko?"

It's a laugh, sharp and ugly, as she wiped the stray hairs from her face, standing tall. "You're worse than me. You're a _fool. _What, you think you can just come save the world because you think you're good now?"

"It's more than that, more than you'll ever know. I know my destiny; I will restore balance to the world—"

"Destiny!" A disgusted growl burned in her mouth, as she took a few paces forward, her eyes honest and gold. "Let me tell you the difference between us, Zu-zu." She watched him fall into his battle stance, his feet sliding and his fists curling. Carefully, she stepped forward, breathing in then out, sucking in the pain and anger.

"You came here to fight for your victory—for your _destiny. _But I, and this is true in everything, have come here already _knowing_ I have won, and simply come to gain my prize. Because of that, I'll always win."

She reached for his chest and he grabbed for her neck.

(He forgets that she's always been the faster one.)

**.x.**

The comet is bright and it's everywhere.

Blue and red mixed, massive waves of fire and heat colliding, pushing and fighting. The pit in her stomach is desperate, anxious. She's dreamed of this day—memorized it. It's there like a picture, perfectly painted, the black lines of ink running and digging deep, all the way down until she refuses to believe anything else.

She laughs.

There is a satisfying sound of anguish. It settled between her fingers, breaking down to its knees, breathless and cracked open. She didn't look away when he gasped, her hand in his chest, glowing blue and dripping red, his body limping and crushing in her grip.

Azula barely heard him leak open—"_I'm your brother, your big brother,"--_and let him fall to his knees. No, she thinks as she stands and looks down at him, he stopped being her brother when he left her in a world where the floor cracked open and he let her fall in.

"This is not my brother's blood," she is covered, she is stained, "This is a traitor's."

Her final blow cracks like a whip—and shatters like a bone.

She walks away.

(Again, and again, she is left.)


End file.
